


The Audacious March

by curimuch



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2192790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curimuch/pseuds/curimuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claus personally doesn't care for humanity, he only cares to help the wishes of his twin come true. But is one heart alone big enough to alter the lives of many?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Audacious March

 

Three years felt very long to this weary soul. His spirit, on the other hand, still flared for reasons his mind didn't bother to try and comprehend. Banished to the literal graveyard shift, it still crackled intensely like the electricity he controls. This shift, something that left the impression of being really easy, was one of the hardest jobs this boy with dusty copper hair had yet. It threw his entire cycle off, an internal clock he nurtured for years, now warped for the amusement of a nasty wide man with much power over him. Every night for five nights he's been at the grave sight. Digging for clay and using his powers to chase away supernatural occurrences that disturbed those weak soldiers from their much easier tasks.

When his ankle was grabbed, he sighed and shook his foot. His leg was partially freed; the zombie's wrist dislocated from the host, but its cold grip was still around his sore limb.

“Every night you grab my ankle as if that's gonna work.” After the first three nights, he simply stopped bashing the zombie on the head right away after realizing he was not that much of a threat.

“You always... put me back... into this... _hole_.”

“It's where you belong.”  
  
“Says... _you_...”

However, Claus _did_ tighten his hold on his shovel every time a zombie or three came out of the ground. This occasion was no exception to this.

“How do you even reassemble your body in there anyway? I break you apart in different ways and you always come back in one raggedy piece.”

“Dunno...I just... roll with it....”

“Sorry,” Claus stated before swinging his shovel at the waist of the zombie. He cut the undead man in half. He already knew that the zombie would keep crawling back to him anyway and lopped off his head in preemptive response. “So y'don't want t'go back in your hole?” He didn't get a verbal reply, only a gross groan instead. “Maybe if you didn't have a body anymore, you'd just turn into a ghost and go to Osohe. I'd burn you myself but... I'd rather not do that so early in my shift.” When the zombie gurgled in reply he realized what went wrong. “...Got your voice box.”

One last sickly noise confirmed it. He plucked the hand off his ankle and chucked it onto the back of that very zombie as he approached the head. His curiosity was high but his moral nudged him. It was telling him that acting out on his curiosity would be no better than those scientists not too far from there...

But a big part of him was really tired of playing the moral filled guy. He dove the shovel into the weak skull of the zombie looking for a 'squish'. It wasn't until he dug it in a little further that he got a sound of something residing in there. He moved the shovel's tip around, trying to see how it would look. Dirt and clay in the way made it hard to see, and the smell was wafting through his nose. He withdrew his shovel and observed that the zombie wasn't even making a sound now. He peered over to see the decaying eyelids still twitch--he was 'still here' in a way. He stood by not burning the body _this_ time, but instead decided to just go with bashing it into mushier pieces. Breaking apart a decaying human's skull took a bit of time. When it was hardly recognizable he looked at the rest of the body.

The flesh melted away into dust, and only bones and clothes were left in place.

“Huh...” So heads were important to the 'undead' as it was in life in a way, but it didn't explain how they rose out of the dirt in the first place. His task was to gather clay, but with more zombies rising out of the ground... he lost some focus. Despite this, he didn't lose a lot of time. It did take him about an hour and a half to make puree out of human heads. The field then had scattered clothes and bones through out it, and he wasn't sure what to do with the remains that were once human beings.

“What'd you do?? I never seen my lot look like this before!”

“I actually put the zombies to rest,” Claus muttered and flipped clay over his shoulder. The purple patches had an odd sparkle to it.

“I'd say you're desecrating them.”  
  
“But they always rise outta the ground and try to bite people!”  
  
“Son, that's like begrudging a dog for licking his balls. It's just something they do.”

Claus palmed a part of his face and sighed heavily. He never did quite look at the other man, though.  
  
“I'm not desecrating, okay? I talked to a pissed off one complaining about being put into a hole all the time. Maybe this time they'll go to Osohe and have loud parties all the time, rather than never succeed in biting someone's skull open.” He shrugged and added, “I'm actually doing a favor to everybody. The ghosts left a note on the billboard...some...how, asking for people to 'die faster' but what about the 'undead'?”  
  
“ _Son_ ,” the grave keeper hobbled his way over to the defensive boy. His body just wasn't quite the same after the first time he was attacked by soldiers years ago. “When's the last time you heard a loud party from Osohe? They're gone.”  
  
“Well maybe there'll be another round of party-goers soon then,” he answered and moved away from the man whose name he found very hard to remember. “I'll be outta your yard in a moment.”  
  
“Don't blast another grave stone.”  
  
“It crushed a perfectly alive dog!”  
  
“Survival of the fittest.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I'm the fittest because it would've crushed me next.”  
  
“I'll give you that, son.”  
  
“Stop callin' me 'son' already, my actual dad's dead.” He paused for a moment after he dug his shovel into the strange earth. “...Thanks for givin' him a good spot—her too.” He scooped it out and paused again. “I think it's this clay.”  
  
“I know it is.” That's when Claus turned around in shock. “I'm not a very sharp man. It took me a very long time to notice, so I made sure newer graves go where it's not purple, but that place was always specially for her.”

“...So you feel responsible for the ones who rise again and again?”  
  
“I _am_ responsible. They've learned to not try and bite me, and they're gone now.”

Claus scooped up more clay over his shoulder.  
“On one half, I'm sorry. On the other half, that's really selfish. I think they were really tired.”

“Could've bit the not-so-bright ones who recently came to town. They got one.”

“Huh.” He stood corrected. Somewhat. “One outta a bunch in a lot o' years.” He tossed more dirt over his shoulder onto his fourth pile. “Where would you even put the extra bodies anyway?”  
  
“I guess that's something for _them_ to figure out.”  
  
“Work for 'them' now?”  
  
“Not necessarily.”  
  
“I work under that label too.” His arms felt very tired, a numbing sting was felt whenever he loosened the chunk he was getting ready to haul over his shoulder. To think that even after this last pile, he'd have to manually move some of it for extra credit.

“How's your twin doing, anyway? I haven't seen that boy since we put your mother to rest.”

“He's alright.”  
  
“Lightning bolts and all?”  
  
“Lightnin' bolts 'n' all.” He dove the shovel into the earth hard enough for it to stand on its own and walked over to a tool that to him, was 'basically a shovel on wheels'.

“It's like he's not even here in Tazmilly anymore...I hear about you all the time, and now I see you every night this week. But Lucas...”  
  


“He's okay. He never went out much anyway. It's not that much different from then.”  
  
“I suppose not but--”

“'m telling you, Osohe will pick up again soon enough.” _Stop blabin' to me_. He scooped up a massive load of clay and rolled off with it down the road away from the grave keeper. He was feeling that tiring sensation up to his shoulders now. He wanted to do two piles of clay on his own...but it was looking like only one tonight. Lucas should still be awake, and he would definitely be surprised to see him. That was enough to get Claus through this one large pile of clay.

 

.-.-.-.

“Back early!!” The dusty teenager was excited, physical wear and tear aside. “Lucaaaaas~!” Footsteps that were once cautious in the distance then moved in haste. He had a cheeky grin when he saw his twin's rosy and surprised face step outside their ragged home. Even though his upper body was killing him, he still had that casual pose of forming triangles behind his head with his elbows.

Lucas wasn't sure what to say.

“Claus...?” He examined how he was covered in clay, dust, and different types of soil. He never really saw his twin at his dirtiest. He was always asleep by the time he returned but always had the water ready for Claus to get into as he slept.

“I decided to come back early. I won't go back to the yard tomorrow either...”  
  
“How come?”  
  
“It got to the point I made some graves shallow.” To his twin's sympathetic frown, he had an empathic half-smile of sorts. “I also found out the clay brings bodies to life... It sort of disturbs me on what they would use that clay for...”  
“Wow...really?” Lucas inquired while slowly curling his fingers around Claus's hand that had the slightest tremble to it.

“Yeah, zombies of old Tazmilly people and even zombie dogs. Strike 'em _in_ the head and their entire bodies disappear and I dunno why. That grave guy said he knew this for awhile and that...they kept him company. I was thinkin' without bodies to return to, they would be another set of Osohe ghosts.”

“Osohe ghosts are real after all?” Lucas' skepticism was nearly as stubborn as Claus's spirit, but with the likes of chimeras and the magic that flowed through his brother, he learned to let his grip on logic go bit by bit. Osohe ghosts were old stories that were told to them just like 'the voices in the wind' or the tides that took children away. One of which he nearly lived, and another his twin talked about on lonely windy days. At this point, ghosts wouldn't be too far of a stretch.

“I never met or saw 'em, but I always heard about 'em from the pigmasks and scientist people. I heard they were shooed out somewhere else... somehow.”

“You know...” Lucas began as he patted some dust out of the tail of Claus' hair. “We always heard of ghosts, rug monsters and living armor in osohe, but never about a princess... Yet, we saw her face to face. So it makes me wonder what parts of it is true or not.”

“She's a big mouth who never came back so—”  
  
“I believe her.”  
  
“Hmph.”

“And you're a loud mouth too.” Lucas giggled and moved away from playful swats. “Maybe she could be related in some way?”  
  
“Wha? Just cause she has PSI or something? Some people do, some don't... and a bunch of pink haired—” He paused as his face contorted. “....She might not be a she.”

“...Huh?”  
  
“Uh--” His eyes darted around in panic. Awkwardly speaking of the magypsies, even briefly, could lead to consequences he didn't want to have to deal with yet. He went as far as to fake a sneeze to avoid the subject, and that soon followed with a coughing fit from spit that accidentally traveled down his air pipe.

“Dust allergies there,” the oblivious boy stated as he patted more dust from copper colored hair. “If I knew you were so dusty when you got back... I'd have stay awake more...”

“I've cleaned myself just fine so far, didn't I?” Claus mumbled as he attempted to hide his flushed cheeks. Still coughing a little here and there. His shoulders stiffened when he was nudged toward the back of their house. He could feel his blush travel up to his ears. Tension was thriving as he felt places of his skin ripple with electricity he managed to keep to himself. It made his shirt cling to him oddly, looking wet by how it stuck to his skin. Sweating from work helped this illusion.

The little sparks didn't phase Lucas at all, it only gave him an idea.

“You heat the water up yourself, right?” Lucas asked as he dragged their makeshift tub out onto the grass. “Being summer time makes this easier too. Ahh... how I rarely took any baths when it was colder.” He sheepishly chuckled.

“I didn't either with the way you clung to me.” His smirk was playful but clashed with his red face.

“Well, _yeah._ You're really warm and it saved you the energy from having to get extra wood to burn. And I didn't get sick this time either.”

“I heat up the metal bucket, then I pour it in the other one. It's quicker than fire so I get to go to bed quicker.”  
  
“Use this opportunity to sit in the warmth and talk.” It's been a long while since he had a chat with Claus. Most of their communication was expressed through sleep interestingly enough. Sharing warmth and peace with the other, and seeing that they were okay enough in each other's eyes. Meals were rather quiet as well, they still weren't perfectly nourished, but they got by and often focused on the meal itself rather than what the other was thinking or going to do. Lucas had more conversation with his chickens than with his twin the past year, and as curious as he was to hear about Fuel, he was a mixed result so he was going to take this one step at a time. “What'd you hear about Osohe?”

“The ghosts party all the time. They cook and sing and have a 'ragtime' goin' on in there. They like rotten milk and eclairs and uh... the giant snake the 'princess' talked about... and talk about a magic egg in there.”

“You didn't tell Wess any of this...?”  
  
“No. I don't want to go in that raggedy place where the old people go,” Claus answered as he removed his shirt. Dust particles flew about and tumbled down his shoulders. “And every time he comes outta there he causes a scene. Two scene makers should never be together.”

“ _I_ could go and tell him then. I think...I think it's important. They say he and Duster did a lot of training, and the people who are out at night the most are them and Nippolyte... So I think they're all connected to something important in there. Or to the town... They hurt the poor grave keeper when Duster went missing, Wess is in that place all the time and Leder mysteriously disappeared...” 

Claus's thumbs fumbled against the button that bound his shorts together in thought.

“So they're weakenin' defenses...” He murmured. He forgot about his own filth when those pieces were put together before him. “...Feels kinda inevitable to me.” He wasn't sure what to feel when he said that. He felt unsafe and angry most of all, and thought back to the ocean again. “Everyone who tries to do somethin' disappears.”

“You haven't no matter how hard they've tried.”  
  
“Y'want me to do something about it? What can I do about it? It's hard enough ti keep us afloat as it is--”  
  
“But if it is inevitable, Claus, why do you keep trying? If nothing but a bad ending came for us... why do you keep going?”  
  
“Because I work for the present, for the todays, not the tomorrows. If today was the last good one I'd be alright with that.”

“I don't understand... wouldn't you want a better tomorrow? I can't understand going day by day with nothing to look forward to. You gotta look forward to something, Claus!”

“I don't. I...just want every day to be as good as I can make it. I don't think about tomorrow because you know what? Tomorrow could be bad, it has been a bunch of times, out right terrible, terrifying. In fact, they usually are...but in the middle of that today I can get a moment of good and that's what I've grown to look for.”

“I was thinking... during the day I would work at the--”  
  
“ _What?_ ” He turned around, shirtless and opened fly and all. He looked ridiculous being so angry while half naked and dusty.

“At the old man's paradise. I'd spend my days there. With two people doing something I'm sure things will get better--”  
  
“You just want to scheme with Wess!” He _yelled_. “If I can't do anything about it, then you definitely can't do anything!!”

Lucas winced and even turned his gaze away from his harsh twin. He wiggled his fingers until they formed a fist. That balled hand trembled when he gazed upon his brother.

“I'm clumsy, but I made it to the top of Mt. Oriander. I'm scared a lot, but I took down the largest chimera in one blow. I like to observe and read, and while I couldn't read for awhile, I could still observe and do my part when blind. I can do things. I can do things when I put my mind on it.” He turned away again, to the door, and made his way over there without looking over his shoulder once. He had no reason to, Claus was silent.

“That _really_ was a blow,” he quietly admitted.

“You _really_ hurt me first.”  
  
“So I think with aggression first.”  
  
“Biggest chimera--”

“ _Okay_. You win.” He huffed and cross his arms. “Going to go for _over kill_ and leave me alone?”  
  
“Most other times I would, but today is an exception.” Lucas answered as he made his way back over toward his twin. “Because I'm curious about a lot of other stuff.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Fuel... I haven't seen him very much, have you?”

“No, we're in different areas,” Claus answered and placed his hands on the sides of the pan. His hands glowed a bright green that concentrated itself onto the sides of the relatively tall bucket. It looked like he was handling hot molded metal like a blacksmith. The energy gave the pail two hot patches as the water simmered within a minute or two. “I'll look for him tomorrow if you want.” Lucas laughed, the sudden urge made him hold his sides from it. “What?” Claus hands gripped the handles of the bucket as he created an embarrassed scowl at the laughter of his twin. It always turned into this when Fuel was mentioned.

“It's funny. I want a lot of things that are on a backlog of sort for you to do, _apparently_ , but Fuel is top priority. I guess you do too?”

“Do y'want to go to Osohe or not?” His back remained turned to hide his face, but the back of his hair was prickly after a faint circular spark went up his neck and exited through the tip of his ducktail.

“Huh.” It confused Lucas at first, who blinked in surprise after watching that strange occurrence travel up his brother's dusty head. “What does... Oh! Oh! He's at Osohe??” He covered his own mouth when he nearly said 'I get it!'. While he was able to bite his tongue on that exclamation, he couldn't hide his excited and muffled giggling. Claus heaved the bucket up, teetering back when a dose of dizziness overcame him. Vision splitting and head feeling like it was spinning, he wasn't registering he was falling until he felt a pair of hands slapping against his back to hold him up then push forward so that the bucket landed on the grass again. It was fully registered when he fell onto his knees and breathed out roughly.

“Another one,” he panted out. He saw a pair of hands grabbing for the handle before he blurted out, “it's hot. Be careful...”

“Do you just want to lay down instead...?”

“I wanna get this dust offa me...” He sighed out, hunched over. He began to take off his shorts with heavy sighs, beads of sweat rolling down his neck as he done such a simple action.   
  
“I don't think you should sit in it--”  
  
“...Then pour it over me,” he puffs out.   
  
“Okay, close your eyes...”

 

It really took him back.

 


End file.
